


The Meaning of a Mother

by rotKaiserin



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotKaiserin/pseuds/rotKaiserin
Summary: mother(ˈməT͟Hər)nouna woman in relation to her child or children.-Ever by her side was her Papa, and there to guide her along the way were her uncles. But Emma had to wonder where a "mother" fit in her life.





	The Meaning of a Mother

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello~ i've been in a bit of a writing rut lately orz so i decided to write something other than my ongoing projects (which, don't worry, i'm working on! ~~ever so slowly~~ )! i figured it's been quite some time since i wrote an introspection piece (a little more than a year actually, wow), so i thought i'd write another. i've also been meaning to write more gen fics! so ta-dah~
> 
> without further ado, here we go~ this is cross posted on my [writing blog](https://missblanchette.tumblr.com/post/165133867338/the-meaning-of-a-mother-11). thanks for reading and i hope you all enjoy! o(*ﾟ∇ﾟ)ﾉ

"Mother" was a word that had lost meaning to Emma years ago, the mere sound of it bringing nothing but faint recollections. "Cynthia Grane" was but a stranger to her, their surname the only connection they shared. It wasn't that Emma hated this woman -- no, that was far from the truth -- but she couldn't bring herself to care either, not when she'd left this gap in her life.

There was once a time where Emma cried for this woman, her Mama.

It all started when she fell asleep in Mama's arms and awoke in those of a stranger's. At the time, Emma didn't think much of it; she would come by later and help them count the dolphins. After all, Mama never told her goodbye and if you never say goodbye, you'll surely meet again. At least, that was what Emma used to think.

After Papa went to Heaven, Mama promised ( _pinky_ promised, even) that they'd always be together. For a girl as young as her, the days where Mama watched over her and Frate played with her in their yard were all Emma knew and she'd truly believed those days would go on forever. Of course, reality never treated anyone kindly. Mama disappeared without so much as a word and Emma ended up kilometers away from home, in a place where the words made no sense and the people acted as if she were alien.

"Big girls don't cry," Mama once told her, but Emma didn't wanna be a big girl yet. Mama would always come running to her when she cried, always patched up her scrapes, and fixed her problems, so cry Emma did. But no matter how much she cried, no matter how much she wailed, Mama never came.

What she got instead was Mr. Amari -- Mr. Amari's touch, which held a different warmth than Mama's; his words, which carried a different softness than Mama's; his care, which was a different gentleness than Mama's. Though kind, he only served as a reminder that Mama wasn't there and the tears just kept on falling.

There was once a time where Emma resented this woman, her mother.

No longer was she asking "Where is Mama?" or "When will Mama come back?". Rather, she asked, "Why do other kids have a mother?"

Every time she looked outside, there was a mother chiding her child or a mother carrying her child or a mother hugging her child, and it was in those moments that Emma realized how unorthodox her family was. At this point, she could hardly distinguish her own mother from Papa Amari; their guiding hands blurred together, sharing the same tenderness and comfort. Don't get her wrong, Emma loved her Papa and uncles dearly, but it struck her as strange that there were no women in the house.

"Because their mothers are raising them," Papa Amari had answered her.

"Why?"

In a rare instance of hesitation, his eyes grew glassy and he ran his hand through her hair.

"Because that's what a mother does."

Sometimes, Emma couldn't say if Papa Amari's honesty was a good thing or not. On the bright side, it saved her from wasting time on looking for her mother or wondering about her well being. She could focus on moving on rather than clinging to "what if"s. On the flip side, however, it became clear to her that her mother wasn't just gone. Mother had _left_ her, and a mother, as Emma learned, would never leave their children behind.

She must’ve done something wrong if her mother decided that avenging her husband was more important than raising her. Raymond Grane was probably a good man, that Emma didn’t doubt, but he was also _deceased_. No matter how much Papa Amari or her uncles reassured her that her mother gave her up _because_ she loved her, nothing could change the fact that her mother chose a dead man over her. Emma would never say it out loud, but a small part of her hoped that, wherever she may be, guilt consumed her mother to the point of misery.

As it was now, Emma denied this woman, the one who gave birth to her.

That was all Cynthia Grane meant to her, the one who gave her life and the one who abandoned her. As much as she once dreamed of being reunited, as much as she once cursed the woman's name, Emma cut off all attachments to her. She simply couldn't hold onto them, not when she barely knew the woman.

Despite defining who she was, Cynthia Grane wasn't there at all. She wasn't there to wipe her tears as she was forced to move away from home, wasn't there to soothe her while she was angry at the world, wasn't there to listen to her when Papa and her uncles couldn't understand her problems.

In another reality, maybe she would've been raised with both of her parents' love. As happy as she was with the family she grew up in, Emma entertained those thoughts more than she’d like to admit. Such a girl would've grown up happier in that peaceful life, she’d mused; such a girl would’ve had a normal life. There was little to be done about it now, though, no do overs or take backs. She was raised by spies, a life filled with lies and deceit, a life she'd come to embrace. But there was one truth she took comfort in: that she had no mother.

She had no need for the pitiful looks others gave her. Sympathy wouldn't bring back all those years of a missing mother and truth be told, she didn't want them either. Call her cold, call her callous, but she'd survived this far without that Cynthia Grane and would continue to do so. Those warm touches, those gentle words, and the love of a mother were but faraway memories and Emma -- simply Emma, without the “Grane” -- would keep them that way.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~have i mentioned it's been some time since i wrote proper angst too lol~~  
>     
> i'm such a sucker for close familial relationships, but i also love exploring more complicated ones... aha, it would've been nice to ended this on a happier note, but i feel like emma's feelings towards cynthia are so complex and nuanced TwT
> 
> aah for those reading long dream and birds of paradise, i can't promise an update soon（ﾉ´д｀）but i'm gonna try my best to update both within the next two months!!
> 
> anyways, thank you guys again for reading! feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://dollofdeath.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/nighthawkstars)! i hope you all have a lovely day/night~!  
> ヽ(*´ω｀*))


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